Destined for the Fae King (Courts of Faery #3)

Chapter 5

I ’m awake long before the sun filters in through the pale, gossamer curtains that hover over the windowpanes. After the night before, I should be exhausted, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins has me anything but. We get to meet with the dowager queen this morning. My second chance to make a good first impression, and hopefully there won’t be a certain prince around to spoil it.

The fanciest oil lamp I’ve ever seen sits on the side table, and I light it, letting out a soft gasp as buttery light fills the room and dances along the walls. It’s much brighter than it should be, but doesn’t hurt my eyes either, likely some advantage given by the fae glasswork. At least they thought to provide these for us since we can’t control the magically influenced fae lights. They should brighten on their own with the day, but right now they’re barely visible glowing dots around the room like the dimmest of fireflies but the size of ping-pong balls.

There are numerous things the other women may have packed, though I’d wager clothes, jewelry, and cosmetics are high on the list, despite the fae promising to supply us with those. I, however, packed something far more important .

I pull the stack of notebooks out of my suitcase and spread them out across the bed. They’re all the same brand and size but in varying colors, each packed with notes, reminders, and conjecture on the fae. Of course there are plenty of blank pages in each too, as well as an entirely blank notebook to fill with everything I learn while I’m here. Not to mention colorful pens, tabs, sticky notes, and of course some stickers. The stickers aren’t strictly necessary, but I couldn’t help myself. If I do something, I do it big, and what’s bigger than this?

Already my mind is swirling with notes I want to add to my collection, tidbits about the flavor of the wine and additional details on King Vasilius that no portrait could adequately capture, like the warmth of his hand, the light calluses there, or the way the gold flecks in his eyes sparkle up close. Some of these notes are just for me, diary entries to capture my experience here for all time. Other notes will be for Selena, bits to add to her ever-growing database of fae knowledge she’s working on for the gifted.

I’m hard at work when a soft tap comes on the door.

“Come in,” I call, but whoever it is has already cracked the door.

“Oh!” Fia exclaims before sliding through the narrow space and closing the door behind her. Her hair is tied back in a long braid behind her head. With her pale form and the limited light filtering in through the windows, she almost looks ethereal. “I came to wake you and help you get ready, but I see you are already up and dressed.”

I smile at her from my perch on the bed, surrounded by my books and pens in what probably looks like an absolute mess of things but suits me just fine. “I’ve been up for a little while.”

Truly, the whole having an attendant thing is a little weird. It makes sense that royals would have help—they do in my world anyway—and one of us will be a future royal, but it’s an adjustment for sure. My brows pinch together. A misstep maybe? Should I have let her help me get ready? I give my head a little shake. Can’t worry about that now.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” she asks helpfully. “You’ll be having an early lunch with the queen, but I could bring you something now? Help with your hair if you need. Not that it needs help,” she adds quickly.

To be fair, I didn’t do anything with it other than brush it out, letting the dark waves hang around my shoulders. I didn’t plan to either. Yes, we’re to meet with the queen, but I also want to be seen for myself, not just some made-up version of me.

“I think I’ll be fine,” I say. “I don’t need anything this morning.”

I’d swear her shoulders drop, and she glances at the ground for a moment before smiling at me and giving a shallow bow. “Summon me if I can be of help.”

It’s impossible to miss the note of disappointment in her voice. Damn, I can’t have that. “Actually,” I say before she can fully turn back toward the door. “Do you know if there is any coffee available?”

From my studies, the fae don’t favor it the way humans do for whatever reason, but maybe they’ll have some anyway since they planned to have humans in residence.

“Of course!” Her whole body appears to brighten and lift. “I should have thought of that,” she mutters, half to herself.

“It’s fine, you couldn’t know that I—”

“I’ll get some and be right back!” She whirls toward the door and is halfway out before she stops and turns. “Any milk? Sugar? I hear some humans like that. Or a little… Oh, what is it called?” Her whole face scrunches up as she searches for the word.

I save her the trouble. “Just the coffee. Thank you.”

“Right away! ”

The door trembles in her wake, and I can’t help but give a little laugh as I settle back into my studies. Good thing the doors seem to be pretty soundproof or she might have just woken half the hall.

The coffee may have been a bad idea. Between the caffeine boost and my nervous anxiety, I’m a barely contained mess in a dress by the time our meeting with Elaine rolls around. I put on a good face of course, and I know I look good—this modest navy dress never does me wrong. It might be an odd move not wearing the court’s colors on the first full day, but it’s a sure way to stand out. Fia didn’t say anything about it, so it can’t be major faux pas. She seems determined to do everything to perfection, and I have a feeling she expects the same of me and would stop me from doing anything too bad, to save face herself if nothing else.

When it’s time to go, we all meet in the hall. My instincts haven’t disappointed me—the other women are all in vary shades of red or gold.

Cora doesn’t miss a beat, eyeing me up and down with a disapproving smirk. “Forget the court colors already, Mira?”

The comment slices through the chatter and pulls attention toward me like a magnet.

But I half expected this from her.

“Not at all,” I reply in my sweetest voice.

Standing out is my strategy. My best one. The king hasn’t shown much interest in humans? Then I’ll show him one he hasn’t seen before—me. It seemed to work in my favour last night…other than Lysandir’s protest. Just the thought of him dampens my spirit, so I push it away.

“Hmm.” Cora purses her lips. “I suppose poor choices are to be expected from unknown white trash.” She turns, giggling with the stick-skinny blond at her side. Katherine, probably the youngest one here, who clearly has found the wrong role model.

My hands ball into fists at my side, but I stretch my grin wider. As a waitress, I’ve had a lot of experience dealing with rude people, and I summon it now.

“I’m only part white,” I say politely, trying not to show how much their barbs sting.

Cora whips her head toward the woman at her other side, a gorgeous Latina named Gabriella. Oh yes, look to another non-white person for confirmation. Totally cool.

“Mira Rivera ,” Gabriella says with a look that says my heritage should be obvious.

My mom is basically as white as they come. For a while, I thought maybe that was why my uncle didn’t like her. But no. As I learned from my father before he died, my uncle identifies as gifted first, Texan second, and Hispanic third. And with as long as my dad’s family has been in Texas, we really are as American as anyone. It wasn’t Mom’s coloring that knocked her down in his esteem, just a different part of her genetics that she had as little control over.

Gabriella shakes her head and walks away. We haven’t met before, but I tried to pay attention at the ceremony last night and remember first names at least. Gabriella’s shiny, dark hair is even longer than mine and brushed to absolute perfection. Not a strand is out of place where it hangs down over the back of her knee-length crimson cocktail dress. With her rich skin tone, the color does wonders for her.

Cora rolls her eyes and mutters, “Whatever,” before turning away with Katherine in tow .

Before anyone else can engage me, we’re ushered off as one big group of women and guards toward breakfast. It shouldn’t take all of our guards to see us there—seriously, one would do—but it seems they’re not taking chances with our safety, even if this is overkill.

The room where we meet the queen is impressive even by fae standards. It’s circular, high columns holding up a domed roof with a wide, circular opening in the center. That alone would let in plenty of light, but half the room has no walls, instead opening up to a courtyard beyond, that side of the roof held up by thick columns spaced evenly apart.

The courtyard beyond is one I had spied the night before, albeit from a different perspective. Golden sand covers the ground, spotted with large gray rocks and twisting eggplant-colored trees, like some fae version of a Zen garden.

The room itself is lacking the dining tables I expected. In my mind, this was going to be some kind of formal affair straight out of a historical drama. Not so. A few tables filled with foods and drink stand around the edges of the room, but the center is covered with rich rugs and spotted with huge pillows in varying warm shades. The queen herself already sits in the one chair in the room, a grand wing-backed thing covered in plush-looking crimson cloth—velvet maybe.

Some of the other women are openly confused by the setup. One even whispers something to her guard.

If it weren’t for the importance of the moment, I might laugh. The dowager queen will have us on the floor around her feet like school children. Maybe that’s the point. Though she’s yet to smile, I don’t get the impression she’s trying to make us think lowly of ourselves, and from what I’ve learned, she isn’t arrogant or superior in nature, though she has every right to be given her rank.

“Welcome, ladies.” Elaine doesn’t rise, but I imagine it may be hard for her to do so, especially given that her cane is propped on the little table next to her chair, which already holds a plate of food and a crystal glass filled with pale golden liquid. “Not what you expected, I’d say.” She gestures to the pillows. “Help yourself to some food and find a seat.”

We do as we’re told, most in near silence. I don’t think this is how any of us expected things to start out.

The pillows are clustered into little groups, and I end up taking one near Bailey. Selena had helped me gather notes on my potential competition, and I vaguely remember some bits about her. She’s in her early thirties I believe and has a maturity I can appreciate. Plus, she’s the only other one who appears to have brought a notebook. She gives me a shy smile before opening her black leather journal and smoothing out a page, her little plate of food completely ignored on the floor by her side.

Once we’re all seated and introduce ourselves, Elaine drops into a speech. “One of you will become queen, and that is no small thing. Not only will you be a bound to the king in marriage and, fates willing, grant him children, you will also be a constant presence in his life, and it better be a positive one. Encourage him. Support him. Even reprimand him when he needs. And he will.”

A few women still and look at one another. Even I have to admit, it’s frank words for the first day.

“Surprised?” The queen angles her head, nonplussed. “At my age, there isn’t time to waste words. Vasilius may not be mine by blood, but he is my son in all ways that matter. I wish the best for him and intend to see that he has a capable queen by his side before death takes me. And while he has many strong qualities, he can be impulsive, reckless, and hot-tempered. You will need to help balance that.”

Impulsive. Reckless. Hot-tempered. I write, underlining each one.

“A pretty face is not going to win you this crown, and it’s not only my son you must impress. The counsel and I will also be sharing our opinions as time progresses, and I trust that Vasilius will take our words into account when making his choice.”

Katherine openly pouts and pulls up the neckline of her gown that exposes more of her cleavage than I’m sure Elaine cares to see.

“Now that you understand that,” the queen says. “I thought I would take the time to tell you more about my reign as queen, particularly the early years.”

The queen’s tales are riveting. To me anyway. Some of the others? Not so much. Cora has a serious case of resting angry face, and Zoe stands up and stretches enough times that I’m surprised she doesn’t drop into a full-out yoga session in the middle of this morning chat. Granted, we all have to move a little. My legs start to fall asleep more than once.

The queen pauses for questions as she’s done a few times already, and Grace raises her hand. Her blond hair is as bright and sunny as her disposition. Some might discount her for her curvy figure, but with the almost roguish grin Vasilius gave her when accepting her into the competition the night before, I’d say it’s a nod in her favor.

“Can you tell us more about The Choosing from your year?” Grace asks. “What was it like for you?”

Queen Elaine might have been the former king’s third wife, but she was the first selected via The Choosing. The first two were love matches, though only the second resulted in any children. Children are rarer for the fae than humans—probably due to their long lifespans—and even more uncommon among human and fae pairings. However, any children born of such unions always have especially strong magic. It’s one reason the fae royals tend to favor human mates. In fact, any of us who are not selected to be queen could probably easily find a different match here…if we wanted to. It’s what’s expected, human daughters to the fae in exchange for gifts to help our families on Earth prosper. Gifted families have made the exchange for generations. Even so, the thought of being essentially passed on to some other important fae makes my breakfast churn uncomfortably in my stomach.

If it was, love, maybe, but how could it be when I’m here for the king? Early in her speech, the queen made it clear we are here for Vasilius and shouldn’t seek attentions elsewhere.

“Well, that was quite some time ago,” Elaine begins in answer to Grace’s question. “My memory is not what is was…” An unfortunate side-effect of residing in Faery. Human memories of Earth fade quickly in the fae realm, and her arrival was likely blurred into that. “But I will say,” she continues, “that I believe humans nowadays to be more free with their attentions than was expected of us. To put it plainly, if you think the path to the crown lies in Vasilius’s bed, you’d be mistaken. Such intimacies should only be shared between the king and his chosen.”

A few women glance away. Cora, undeterred by the queen’s prim demeanor, straightens her upper body and raises her hand. The queen nods at her.

“How would you suggest we attempt to see if there is mutual interest then?” Cora asks.

I nearly snort. As if that’s the only way to develop intimacy. Not that I’ve had a lot of experience on the matter but still .

“Surely relational compatibility is important in a marriage,” Cora adds, putting a better spin on it.

“You will have time to get to know one another. Some little intimacies would not be amiss, but nothing that could compromise the future of the royal line, however unlikely. If you find that you—”

The words become a muted droning as my senses focus in on a new and strange sensation, almost like the soft pressure on my back of someone staring at me. I glance both ways, but no one else seems to notice. Or if they do, they give nothing away. I can’t very well just twist around without it being noticed, but paying attention under the weight of this feeling is impossible.

My attention snags on the notebook open in my lap and an idea jumps to life. I accidentally let my pen roll off, and as I’d hoped, it slides down a silken pillow and onto the soft rug to my left. As I move to gather it up, I glance behind me and freeze.

A figure leans against the curved back wall, arms crossed and one booted foot braced against the curvature. With the dark auburn hair falling past his shoulders and strong physique, I have to blink a few times to make sure I’m seeing things correctly. It’s not the king, who I’ve half expected to make an appearance at any moment, but Lysandir. His gaze slides to me, and I whip my head back toward the front, cheeks blazing.

Of course he would show up. I squeeze the pen so hard it almost snaps. Does he plan to try to embarrass me again somehow? I’ve thought about that moment more over the last few hours than I care to admit. It should be his brother occupying my thoughts, not him, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what I did to make him try to stop me from competing for his brother’s hand. I’d never even met him before, for goodness sake !

The weight of his stare leans on me like a tangible force. I’m tempted to turn back around just to scowl at him when the pressure lifts and his voice rings out.

“These ladies,” he says, “are attempting to become his wife, Mother, not a mildly friendly companion.”

A few women gasp and turn as he stalks around the outside of the circular room, snatching some kind of fruit off a table on his way by before tossing it into his mouth. Others break into smiles or simply sit up a little more. In fact, of everyone I can see, I’m the only one frowning.

“Lysandir.” The queen’s stony expression breaks to from that of a stern school teacher into beaming motherly affection. He’s her only child by birth, and her youngest, though he’s still sixty years old. The age is boggling when I think about the number, especially since he looks around thirty at the absolute most, but fae ages are like that. In youth, we age the same, but once a fae reaches maturity, their aging slows down considerably in relation to their power. The stronger the fae, the longer the life.

“I thought I’d see if you needed me.” He comes to stand at the side of her chair.

The queen dolefully gazes up at him. “Everything is well in hand.”

He nods once then turns toward us. “Ladies. I wish you good luck in earning my brother’s affections—and those of my mother.” I’d swear he stretches the words out, taking time to meet everyone’s gaze but mine. “Her happiness is quite important to me, as you can imagine.” Lysandir places a kiss on the top of her head, and she gives him a playful swat. “Since you do not need me, I shall see you later.”

He exits not through the door he came into but walking out into the courtyard and disappearing from view. We’re quiet enough in the wake of his departure that I swear I hear Gabriella give a wistful sigh.

“Well now,” Elaine says, her stoic expression returning. “Where were we? Oh yes—”

But I’m still staring after Lysandir, waiting for him to come back and finish whatever he was there for. It can’t have been just that. I keep my attention half pinned to the spot where he vanished beyond the wall. Some advisors come and go, making their introduction. But Lysandir doesn’t return, and neither do we receive a visit from the king.